


Green-Eyed Monster

by twisting_vine_x



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Arthur/OFC - Freeform, Arthur/OMC - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-19
Updated: 2012-06-19
Packaged: 2017-11-08 03:27:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/438629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twisting_vine_x/pseuds/twisting_vine_x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt: jealous!Merlin, oblivious!Arthur, first time</p><p>(A/N: spoilers for most of S4).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green-Eyed Monster

Sometimes, Merlin truly does not understand how Camelot hasn’t yet fallen down around Arthur’s ears.

It’s not that Arthur’s not a good king. He is, in fact – and not just because he’s Merlin’s destiny, or any of that. Arthur loves his people, loves his kingdom, and would do anything to keep Camelot safe – but still, sometimes, Merlin doesn’t understand how someone so _oblivious_ could be so good at ruling over a kingdom.

Then again, Merlin should probably be thankful – thankful that Arthur never once notices the way Merlin stares at him, completely unable to stop himself. Never notices the way Merlin’s skin flushes when Arthur slides naked into the bath in front of him. All things that Merlin should be grateful for, especially considering that he’s already having a hard enough time keeping his frustration to himself, what with the way Arthur seems to have gone off the rails a bit since Gwen left.

\- - -

It had started with the arrival of yet another princess. Just one more person for Arthur to flirt with, one more person to help him not think about Gwen. One more person who will never understand Arthur, and who just has her eyes on his crown – and okay, sure, that’s how this whole exchange is supposed to go, anyway, what with Arthur needing a queen and all, but it doesn’t mean that Merlin has to like it.

And he really doesn’t. Because this particular princess is more abrasive than usual. And while Merlin can sympathize with her situation, stuck as she is trying to land a husband while her every move is observed by the court, it still doesn’t mean he’s fond of her. And, from the way Arthur’s smiles don’t quite reach his eyes, Arthur’s not all that fond of her, either.

And, of course, there’s the fact that Merlin’s been finding himself increasingly envious of the women in Arthur’s life, and he _hates_ that about himself. Jealously is not an attractive trait, and the last thing he needs is for Arthur to ask why Merlin’s grinding his teeth together every time Arthur goes off for a picnic with some pretty young princess.

\- - -

In the end, it’s not the princess that pushes Merlin over the edge. No, it’s the fact that he makes the mistake of wandering to one of the less respectable towns on the outskirts of Camelot – looking for an old client of Gaius’ – and sees something that he really wasn’t supposed to see.

Arthur. In an alley. With some guy he must have found at one of the pubs around him. He hasn’t got his face completely covered – this far out of Camelot, he probably doesn’t have to – and Merlin can almost feel his veins catch fire as he watches Arthur slide to his knees, undoing the slacks of the man in front of him, and pulling the man’s cock out to wrap his mouth around it.

His knees threatening to go out from under him, and his face burning so hard he’s surprised his entire body hasn’t gone up in flames, Merlin turns and flees as fast as he can, but the image is already burned into his brain.

\- - -

A few days later, and Merlin thinks he’s about to lose his mind, because not a damn thing has changed for Arthur, while Merlin feels like his entire world has been turned upside down.

Arthur continues to see the princess. He continues to flirt with many of the women among him. And, in a rare show of affection, he thanks Merlin for being a loyal friend, and doesn’t even follow it up with a sarcastic comment. 

And, somehow – that’s what pushes Merlin past the point of rationality. That, perhaps, and maybe the three glasses of wine he’s had, sitting in Arthur’s chambers and drinking with him, helping him write a speech for an upcoming banquet. Whatever the reason, as Arthur quirks him a smile and says something nice for once, Merlin somehow loses the ability to censor himself.

“Arthur –”

“Another glass of wine, Merlin, if you –”

“I saw you.”

Arthur raises an eyebrow, and Merlin realizes his fingers are shaking against his cup. He sets it down on the table and swallows hard, before he makes himself keep talking.

“At – in the alley, I mean. In that village. With that man, I –”

He stops talking when Arthur’s skin goes almost ashen in front of him. Then, Arthur is getting to his feet, his lips pressed together so hard it looks almost painful.

“Get out.”

“Arthur –”

“Get out!”

Merlin gets to his feet, too, and he realizes he’s still shaking, and it probably should be from fear, but it somehow isn’t. He swipes his tongue across his suddenly dry lips, doing his best to stand his ground.

“Arthur, it’s okay, I didn’t mean –”

“You are not to tell _anyone_ –”

“I wouldn’t do that to you!”

His voice rises without his consent, and then he’s closing his eyes and taking a steadying breath, unable to deal with the expression on Arthur’s face, the way Arthur is staring at him like he expects Merlin to suddenly bring down the entire kingdom around him.

“Dammit, Arthur – do you really think I’d go around talking about this? You’re… you’re my king, and my friend, and I just wanted to say, if you ever want someone to talk to, it’s – it’s okay. Really, it is.”

There’s a long silence, and when Merlin opens his eyes again, it’s to find Arthur staring at him, something that looks like puzzlement plastered across his face, even as a bit of colour returns to his cheeks.

“You’re not disgusted.”

“Of course I’m not.”

It’s the truth, but not the whole truth. Jealously rears its ugly head again, and Merlin bites out the other words that want to escape – _but why isn’t it me, if you’re interested in men, then what is wrong with me, why don’t you want me –_

“That’s…”

And then Arthur stops talking, his skin flushing a little bit more, and Merlin bites down hard against his lip, trying not to think about how much he wants to press his mouth against Arthur’s.

“It’s okay, Arthur. You don’t need to say anything. I just wanted to let you know that… if you need someone to talk to…”

Merlin trails off, and Arthur nods curtly at him, and then they experience what must be the most awkward silence of Merlin’s entire life. He finds himself fiddling with the seams on his sleeves, and then he raises his head as he tries to aim his voice for something resembling normalcy, because he’s suddenly not sure if he can have this conversation any more – and judging by the way Arthur is still rigid in front of him, maybe Merlin’s not the only one who wants out of this situation.

“If you don’t need me for anything else –”

“You may leave.”

The relief in Arthur’s voice hurts a bit, and then Merlin is nodding again, not quite looking at Arthur as he turns to flee the room, wondering what the hell just happened.

\- - -

Unfortunately, the awkwardness doesn’t stop there, and the next few weeks of Merlin’s life are hell.

Arthur sneaks off three more times on his own – how he pulls it off, Merlin isn’t quite sure, but each time results in Merlin wanting to bash his head against a wall. The third time it happens, about a month after their confrontation in Arthur’s chamber, it takes every bit of Merlin’s control to not sneak after Arthur like some kind of stalker – and he just happens to be in Arthur’s chambers when Arthur returns, smelling of whiskey and wearing the unmistakable trace of stubble burn around his lips.

They both go still, staring at each other, and Merlin presses his fingers against his own thighs, fighting the desperate urge to touch, and hating the fact that his stupid, sentimental heart seems to be beating right into his throat.

“Have a good night, your highness?”

It would be impossible to hide the sarcasm in his words, no matter how much he may try. A faint flush slides across Arthur’s cheeks, and then he’s pushing past Merlin to crawl into his bed, lying with his back to Merlin.

“You’re dismissed.”

Biting down the impulse to say or do something incredibly stupid, Merlin grits his teeth together and leaves the room.

\- - -

After returning to his room, Merlin gets spectacularly drunk.

He runs out of alcohol sometime in the very dark hours of the night, and he finds himself curled up on his bed, the room swaying and reeling around him, as he presses his face into his pillow and wishes it was Arthur instead. He distantly thinks that he should be disgusted with himself for being so pathetic, but the booze numbs away whatever shame he might have felt, and he finds himself clutching the stupid pillow a little tighter, hating the way the room spins whenever he leaves his eyes closed for too long.

“Merlin?”

That’s when Merlin realizes that he must be dreaming. Because there is no way Arthur is in his quarters, in the middle of the night, hovering beside his bed like some kind of bleary dream, the lines of his body slightly fuzzy around the edges. Not even thinking about it, Merlin blinks up at him for a second, and then realizes that he really can’t find the coherency to care whether this is a dream or not.

Instead, he just mutters something and squirms to the side of the bed, leaving enough room for Arthur to sit down. There’s a long moment of hesitation, and then Arthur’s gingerly sitting down on the edge of the bed, the warmth of his body bleeding through the covers, and Merlin’s hand moves without his consent, to press down against the soft material that covers Arthur’s thigh.

Beside him, Arthur goes rigid, but all Merlin can do is coordinate his body enough to inch a tiny bit closer to Arthur, distantly realizing that he’s barely able to lift his face from the pillow.

“Merlin – this isn’t – I just came to apologize for –”

“What’s wrong with me, Arthur?”

Merlin can hear the words coming from his mouth, and some part of him knows that he really needs to stop talking, but the world around him is soft and warm, and he feels safe with Arthur sitting beside him, so he presses his fingers in a little harder and ignores the way Arthur inhales sharply at the touch.

“Merlin –”

“If you – if you like men, then why not – what’s wrong with me, why don’t you –”

And then, suddenly, the world doesn’t feel warm and safe anymore, and all Merlin feels is sad and alone, the room still spinning around him. Shoving his face a little deeper into the pillow, Merlin takes his hand from Arthur’s thigh and curls in a little tighter around himself – and that’s when Arthur climbs to his feet so quickly it almost looks like Merlin’s touch had burned him, leaving the room with such speed that Merlin should probably be insulted, or concerned. Instead, he just stifles a yawn and curls in a little closer around his own body, unable to care about anyone or anything around him, as he tries to breathe through the way the room is still turning in on itself.

\- - -

In the morning, Merlin gets about three seconds of peace before he wakes up so suddenly he actually sits up in bed, and then he’s groaning and aiming for a nearby bucket as his stomach makes its protests known. It’s only when he’s done being sick, curled up on his knees with his forehead pressed against his arm, that Merlin lets everything from the night before rush over him, and he’s suddenly overcome with a wave of shame that’s so strong it almost hurts.

Oh god. What has he done?

Slowly rising to his feet, Merlin murmurs the words needed to make his headache and nausea go away, and then sits down on the bed again, letting his head fall into his hands. Arthur will be expecting him by now, and with the way guilt is making his stomach tie itself into rather unpleasant knots, Merlin has no idea if he’ll be able to deal with the confrontation that’s waiting for him.

Dimly, Merlin realizes that he should probably pack his things – it’s not like Arthur’s going to want him around after last night’s debacle – but all he can manage to do is the basics, brushing his teeth and getting himself into clean clothes. If Arthur’s going to kick him out of Camelot for trampling all over the boundaries of their friendship, then Merlin really doesn’t want to smell like booze while he does it.

\- - -

Taking that last step into Arthur’s chambers is one of the most difficult things Merlin has ever done.

To his surprise, Arthur is already awake and fully dressed, and they both go still and stare at each other again, just as they had last night, when Arthur had first returned from his trip to another distant village. Merlin swallows hard around the unfortunate catch in his throat, trying to find the words he needs to apologize – and then Arthur is crossing the room, closing the door behind Merlin and then digging his fingers into Merlin’s elbows, pulling him so close it makes Merlin go dizzy.

“Did you mean it?”

And oh, god. This is the opposite of what Merlin expected. This is not Arthur pushing him away. This is Arthur staring at him like he wants to crawl inside Merlin and make a home for himself, and all Merlin can do is nod, somewhat frantically, his whole body catching fire with a sudden wave of arousal, and then Arthur’s eye slide shut with something that looks like relief, before he’s leaning forward to press his mouth against Merlin’s.

And – oh.

Merlin doesn’t fight it. Not for one second. Doesn’t even think about trying to talk this through. He just closes his eyes and goes with it, distantly aware that he’s already pressing himself full-length against Arthur, their mouths sliding together so perfectly it makes Merlin ache from the inside out, his knees going weak beneath him when Arthur’s tongue sneaks out to flick against the top of his mouth.

And then Arthur is pushing him towards the bed, and Merlin starts stripping off his clothing so quickly it actually brings a smile to Arthur’s face, and then Arthur is pulling things off with equal fervor, until he’s gloriously naked, pressed up against Merlin, and Merlin would be embarrassed over how scrawny he is in comparison if not for the way Arthur is moaning against him, rubbing his cock against Merlin’s thigh and doing his best to suck a mark into Merlin’s neck.

“Arthur,” Merlin hears himself moan, hands scrambling for purchase on Arthur’s back, “Is this – what do you –”

“Whatever you want – Merlin, dammit - I had no idea you - whatever you want, just tell me -”

Heat lances through him at the muffled words, Arthur’s mouth still doing its best to make a home for himself on the side of Merlin’s neck, and Merlin doesn’t waste time, scooting up on to Arthur’s bed and pulling the king down on top of him, arching up with a groan as their bodies press full-length against each other. Then, Arthur is kissing him again, reaching down to wrap a hand around him, and Merlin can’t stop a full body shudder as he rocks up towards Arthur, that simple touch sending a wave of pure lust across his entire body.

After that, things move quickly.

Merlin manages to get a hand down between them, somehow coordinating his higher brain functions as Arthur’s fingers take him higher and higher, squeezing lightly around him, dragging the tips against the underside of his cock – and when Merlin takes Arthur in hand, Arthur bucks against him with a groan, and then they’re just panting into each other’s mouths, not even coordinated enough to make the contact seem like anything close to a kiss, and Merlin can’t stop a yell as he comes messily all over their bodies, pressing up hard into Arthur and using his free hand to hold on so tightly he’s probably leaving bruises.

“Merlin – oh, god, you –”

And Merlin can barely hear, can barely see, his limbs completely limp and out of his control, but he’s distantly aware that Arthur is still thrusting into the circle of his hand, so he bites out a groan and tightens his grip, trying to coordinate his muscles enough to keep some kind of rhythm going – coordinates himself enough to reach up and scratch his teeth along the curve of Arthur’s collarbone, and then Arthur is seizing up above him, and Merlin can’t stop the sigh of contentment that leaves him as Arthur shakes against him, warmth spreading between their bodies as Arthur’s body sags down against his, leaving Merlin no choice but to wrap his arms around Arthur and hold him as close as he possibly can.

It’s quite probably the most wonderful thing Merlin has ever felt.

After a long minute, in which they both pant and try to get oxygen back into their lungs, Arthur starts to slowly go still above him – and Merlin bites down hard against his lip and tightens his grip around Arthur, hoping desperately that Arthur will stay exactly where he is. There’s another long moment of hesitation, and then Arthur exhales sharply as he lets his body go limp again, and Merlin can’t help but grin against Arthur’s skin, pressing a kiss against his shoulder and loving the way Arthur sighs softly as he wraps his arms around Merlin and just holds on tight.


End file.
